


Curiosity

by Oakwyrm



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Attempted manipulation, Conversations, Elias Bouchard Being a Bastard, Gen, It/Its Pronouns For Michael | The Distortion (The Magnus Archives), Some Light Stabbing, casual threats of murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oakwyrm/pseuds/Oakwyrm
Summary: In the wake of its becoming the Distortion that is not Michael Shelley pays a visit to the man wearing the body of Elias Bouchard.
Relationships: Jonah Magnus & Michael | The Distortion (The Magnus Archives), Original Elias Bouchard/Michael Shelley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38





	Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> I love the bizarre dynamic inherent to these two when building off of a base of "Elias and Michael dated before everything went to shit."
> 
> I think the tags are cw enough? Pretty sure I've covered my bases there.

Jonah stared intently at his office wall, a troubled frown on his face. There, nestled neatly between familiar bookshelves, was a bright yellow door. It did not belong there. It had not been there that morning. It could not be there, and yet, it was. He leaned back in his chair, considering his words carefully before he spoke.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised,” he said.

The door creaked as it opened, long, thin, _wrong_ fingers curled around it and the living contradiction which might have once been Michael Shelley folded itself out of its hallways and into his office. It towered nearly to the ceiling, peering down at him with eyes that swirled in all colours, dizzying and maddening to behold.

“Careful,” it said. “I could almost think you’re calling me predictable.”

“That _would_ be a mistake, wouldn’t it?” Jonah said. His pleasant, false smile never wavered.

“Quite a hazardous one.” Its grin floated from its face, eyes hard beyond their spiralling madness.

“Well then, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Jonah asked but did not Ask. Briefly, he wondered if he should offer it something to drink. It might, at the very least, find that amusing which might serve to soften whatever feelings Michael Shelley had left behind in it regarding him.

It would have been so much simpler just to Know-

But no. He couldn’t afford to Behold this thing quite as he’d like. He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to, or if the Distortion would prove too much for him to See through. Either way, any attempt at it would not go unnoticed and while he was relatively sure that it was as yet undecided that would definitely tip the scales out of his favour. And there was always the risk that it might materially damage his mind without the thing that was not Michael Shelley ever having to lift a finger.

“I’ve come to see what all the fuss is about,” it said. “Introduce myself, seeing as we’ve never really met, have we?” Its face twisted into a look Jonah hazarded to call displeasure.

“Well, now we have,” he said. “And since we are here and you’ve invited yourself into my office, what should I call you? I’d give you my name, but I hardly think you’d use it.”

It laughed like a glass bead dropping down a staircase. “Would you? I don’t think so,” it said. “But you can call me Michael.”

“Alright, Michael. Was there anything else?” He really hoped there wasn’t. That it would leave, having satiated whatever curiosity about him lingered within it. Its presence was headache enough without the literal headache-inducing colours rolling off of it.

“I think I’m going to kill you,” it said, almost idly, with a tone of voice one might use for discussing what groceries needed to be bought next.

“You’re not,” he said.

“No?” it asked, its voice echoing wrong in the confines of his office. “You sound awfully confident about that.”

“Whatever ill feelings you have towards me belong to Michael Shelley. You are not Michael Shelley,” Jonah said with a small, barely-there shrug. “Seems a waste to kill me over something so trivial.” Michael laughed, and he had to struggle not to wince.

“Michael Shelley did not _hate_ you,” it said, vicious delight creeping into its voice. “He didn’t even know you _existed_. This hatred… Well, I suppose it is Michael Shelley’s in so much as anything that is mine is his in some small part, but it did not exist before…” It waved one of its hands in the air, indicating some larger whole which Jonah could not see.

“It must hurt, to be so certain of that,” Jonah said. “Not quite natural for you, is it?”

Michael’s face twisted, too many, too sharp teeth bared in an angry snarl. But it did not move, made no indication it was about to strike. Jonah steepled his fingers together and resisted the urge to delve deeper.

“Alright, I suppose I’ll rephrase,” he said. “You’re not sure if you’re going to kill me yet, and so you won’t. Yet.”

Michael tilted its head to the side- too far. The bend in its neck sent a shiver down Jonah’s spine despite the knowledge that it was completely unharmed. “Mm, yes I suppose that will do,” it said. It took a single step forwards, its form twisting and shrinking as it approached. “I am curious. I’m not sure I like it.”

“Shelley was a servant of the Eye, no matter how successful Gertrude may have been in keeping him in the dark. I’m afraid curiosity comes with the territory.” Jonah made no attempt to sound sincere. There was no need for it. Michael made a face which might under the right circumstances have translated into a look of annoyance.

“Awful woman,” it spat.

“Yes, quite,” Jonah agreed.

“Terrible Archivist, too,” it said. “You really should consider replacing her. Not that it will matter. I’m going to kill your Archivist someday. I don’t really care if it’s her or someone better suited. In fact, I’d almost prefer the latter! Fancy that.” It laughed again and Jonah grit his teeth against the migraine building in the back of his skull.

“So that’s it, then?” he asked. “You’re determined to be a thorn in my side?”

“I don’t like the Eye, I don’t like your Archivist, and I don’t like you,” Michael said. “Seems the conclusion should be obvious. You like that, don’t you? When things make sense. Follow their pre-determined paths like good little pawns. It’s a wonder the Eye got to you before the Web.”

“The Web does have its advantages, but they lack, well… Vision.” Jonah chuckled to himself. Michael’s form flickered out for a moment, twisting in on itself in its best approximation of a cringe.

“I despise you,” it said.

“Yes, I think we’ve established that.”

It raised a hand- too large and long with fingers sharper than knives. Jonah froze, eyeing its path warily as it crept closer to his neck. One finger traced feather-light against his jaw, a sharp sting like a paper-cut following it.

“I am… fond of this face you wear,” Michael said, its head tilted in thought. “Though I can’t say the same of the eyes.”

In a flash, too quick even for him, Michael’s other hand shot up to grip his side, razor-sharp fingers sinking into his stomach. Jonah doubled over and swore as it pulled away, bloodied hand tapping against its chin in a mockery of thoughtful consideration.

“You’ll live,” it said. Despite the casual tone of voice, the words rang through the office like a verdict. Jonah took several steadying breaths, his hand pressed tight against his stomach as he picked up his phone to call 999.

Between one blink and the next Michael had slid back into its hallways, the door shutting with a click that rang through Jonah’s skull like a gunshot. He squeezed his eyes shut against it. When he opened them again, there was nothing left but a blank bit of wall between two bookshelves.

**Author's Note:**

> Michael is fun to write but also Really Fucking Hard Goddamit.


End file.
